A Clockwork Heart
by Vintage Lover Who
Summary: In a world in which automatons are becoming quite popular,a man like Professor James Moriarty is bound to be at the top of the technologic development,especially when planning to own both the scientific & the criminal world.His latest creation promises to be exactly what he needs to achieve those goals,but will that be enough or is Jim unconsciously looking for something more?
1. Chapter 1

p align="justify"This was intended to be a very quick thing, nothing more than just a nice one-shot but it got out of hand and I've decided to post it in chapters, hoping it to be as likable as it was for me when this idea first came to my /The lengths one goes when obsessed with this bloody MorMor ship...Enjoy!/p  
p align="justify"_/p  
p align="justify"That night was darker than any other in quite some time. Humidity hung in the air, staining the buildings and streets of New London. And right outside the morgue of St. Bart's hospital, footsteps echoed through the halls, sweat slightly beaded foreheads and turned shirts into sticky fabrics as a body was being transported as stealthily as possible to the back door of the hospital. A dark night indeed./p  
p align="center"******************/p  
p align="justify"It was 5 o'clock pm and the streets were bustling. Steam cars crowded the streets and airships transported their busy passengers to different destinations. People in leather vests, fancy hats and pocket watches in their hands ran in and out of places, cafés at the top of their capacities. It was precisely in one of them that Mycroft Holmes intended to meet his acquaintance for a cup of tea just before going back to the office to finish work. The tall man entered the café with his usual elegant demeanour, scanning the place with a hawk-like gaze until he found the Professor sitting by one of the few windows of the local./p  
p align="justify""Professor, my apologies for keeping you waiting, but you know public service is never reliable when it comes to time", said Mycroft as he took off his gloves in order to give his interlocutor a proper handshake. The man in front of him didn't get up but accepted the offered hand./p  
p align="justify""Don't worry, Myc. I know how busy it can get"/p  
p align="justify"Mycroft raised a brow at the familiar diminutive, but sat nevertheless, right on time to order the garcon a nice cuppa. He had never been a man to waste time so once he was settled in his chair in front of the Professor, he went straight to the point./p  
p align="justify""So, I've heard you've been making remarkable advances in your scientific research, is that correct?"/p  
p align="justify"A smile spread across the dark-haired man's face. "I have indeed, that's exactly why I called you up today. But first tell me, how's Sherlock?"/p  
p align="justify"Mycroft's body tensed up almost imperceptibly, yet he played along. "Very well, thank you. As you already know, my brother is always interested in augmenting humanity's knowledge in whatever matters he deems necessary"/p  
p align="justify""Just like me", finished the Professor with another smile right before producing a bundle of papers from the back of his trousers. "These are the latest plans. Try not to stain them, please"/p  
p align="justify"The ginger scrunched his nose lightly at that last comment and started skimming through the papers in front of him. He had always felt strangely fascinated by the Professor, not in the way Sherlock did, obviously, but it was undeniable that the man was different. At first sight, he could seem like quite a normal bloke, wearing fashionable vests and shirts with the sleeves rolled up. But under that dishevelled appearance, the man was a neat-freak, Mycroft could tell. He didn't even have to look at his impeccable notes or his perfectly measured plans to know what he was facing./p  
p align="justify""Impressive", he muttered almost breathlessly as he slid his fingers over the perfect lines and intricate calculations./p  
p align="justify"The Professor was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. "And it's not even as expensive as it looks"/p  
p align="justify"Mycroft found it hard to hold back how pleased he was with the progress achieved. Automatons were becoming more and more popular these days and the government could really use a high-quality model, one that apparently this short but intelligent man could provide. He turned a few more pages until he got to the segment of the materials. Cogs, springs, cables and other gadgets figured in a list scribbled down in not-so-neat handwriting. It did seem reasonably affordable and Mycroft was just about to smile when he got to the end of it./p  
p align="justify""I see why you called me now, but you shall know that I have no intention on providing you with such elements" said the taller man, furrowing his brow./p  
p align="justify""Oh, but you haven't even let me explain", retorted the dark-haired man./p  
p align="justify""I'm not interested in hearing any explanations. I've seen enough. Develop something just as good without it and I'll reconsider my posture. In the meantime, I'm afraid we will not require your services". The tea that had been brought while Mycroft skimmed through the plans had gone cold. The Professor's gaze had turned just as icy./p  
p align="justify""You don't understand. I know why you like my work. Because you know that I'm not afraid of going as far as needed to get something to function, and you know as well how big this can be. You only have to let me put the prototype together…"/p  
p align="justify""I don't want to know, and I'm certainly not going to cooperate with something illegal" responded Mycroft, putting his gloves back on and readying himself to leave./p  
p align="justify""But you've seen the calculations! Nothing can go wrong, I've already been experimenting on pigs and it works just fine. Do you think I'd be as careless as to not contemplate the risks?"/p  
p align="justify""It's not the technical risks I'm afraid of. I know how brilliant you can be, that's why I'm not turning you to the police, Professor. But as your friend and mentor, I advise you go back to safe territory. Have a good day". Mycroft put his hat on and was about to get up when he felt pressure over his wrist. The Professor was holding him down, a glint of something in his eyes he couldn't quite put his finger on./p  
p align="justify""I just need one subject to prove you…" Mycroft removed his hand forcefully. "Are you out of your mind? Automatons are not meant to be made out of dead bodies, so I suggest you steer away from such ambitions, James. You know what happened to Cornish"./p  
p align="justify"That last statement seemed to deflate all of James' hopes on getting help from his interlocutor. He slouched back on his chair, looking out the window as Mycroft collected his umbrella and exited the café. A dark-chocolate gaze followed him until he disappeared into the crowd. But the owner of that gaze wasn't demoralised at all; on the contrary, a lazy smile spread across his face. Because there were few things that could really bring James Moriarty down, and there were even fewer that could surprise him./p  
p align="justify"_/p  
p align="justify"Author Notes/p  
blockquote  
p align="justify"*"You know what happened to Cornish": Robert Cornish was a 20th Century scientist who performed experiments on how to reanimate corpses; probably his biggest success was bringing back to life a dog, Lazarus IV, 5 minutes after its decease. Still, his progress wasn't exactly appreciated by the scientific community, let alone public opinion, especially when he tried to start using humans for his experiments, more specifically convicts on death row, bringing whole new issues to the debate, both ethical and legal. Quite a bizarre but interesting story./p  
/blockquote  
p align="justify"I know it's not much but I'd still love to hear what you think. Cheers!/p 


	2. Chapter 2

p align="justify"The fire cracked in the chimney, making the room glow, shadows dancing to a silent tune. Jim sat in one of his big chairs, a glass of scotch in his hand. Behind him, Sybil, the maid, was setting a tray with biscuits on the coffee table./p  
p align="justify""Bad day, Professor?"/p  
p align="justify"Jim took another sip from his drink, not even bothering to look at the girl beside him./p  
p align="justify""Predictable"/p  
p align="justify""Well you know what they say, 'lightning never strikes twice'!"/p  
p align="justify"The man remained locked up in his mind, rummaging what had happened during that day. He suddenly spoke./p  
p align="justify""I think it's time for you to leave"/p  
p align="justify""Beg your pardon?"/p  
p align="justify""Leave. Now"/p  
p align="justify"The girl looked back at Jim with her big green eyes./p  
p align="justify""But Sir, I haven't finished cleaning the master bedroom…"/p  
p align="justify""I. said. LEAVE!"/p  
p align="justify"Sybil jumped at the violent outburst. Nevertheless, she fought to keep control of herself, pressed her lips together and exited the room./p  
p align="justify"As soon as the girl left the house, James went to his workshop to keep on putting together his latest project. As he was making his way through the house, he replayed the scene at the café in his mind. Mycroft's response had been so predictable; that was why he had taken the liberty of getting in advance what he needed in order to work properly. He truly had wanted to make things as legally as possible, but since the law was so reticent to cooperate, he had to do it his own way./p  
p align="justify"It was quite ironic, to be honest. If only Mycroft knew he had just interviewed himself with one of the most dangerous men in New London, a more than promising criminal mastermind./p  
p align="justify"Jim owned roughly 50% of the local criminal world; the important half, at least. He sold and bought anything imaginable, from modified steam cars to organs, and performed tasks that went from getting people inside the country to kidnapping a politician. And even though he had a lot of people under his command, nobody did entirely what James wanted; when he needed a kill, someone who stole things for him… There was always something missing, certain limits not even his most experienced employees would cross. And that was because, well, they were empeople/em. Plenty of them had lived the War and that had changed many things, rearranging people's priorities./p  
p align="justify"But Jim didn't have the time for that. Who had time for feelings and considerations when there was so much to do, so much money at stake and so much fun to have out there? That was where the significance of his current project laid./p  
p align="justify"Jim had taken his time choosing the perfect subject for it. He read the file once again just to confirm he had the right individual:/p  
p align="justify"Recently discharged soldier, served during the last years of the Endless War, being distinguished as the best sharpshooter from his Division. Dishonourably discharged due to his constant issues with authority and following orders. Deceased 18 hours ago. Cause of dead: suicide./p  
p align="justify"emAbsolutely perfect./em/p  
p align="center"*******************/p  
p align="justify"There were plenty advantages of planning ahead and Jim knew this better than most people. So when he decided to get the last thing he needed for his project, he already had pretty much developed the "software" he was going to use, along with the "hardware"./p  
p align="justify"He took out the rotor that was going to act as the main power source of his automaton and gave it some final touches that needed to be done, before going back to its new host. Now it came the hard part./p  
p align="justify"Jim cut through bones and tendons, replaced damaged tissue with his own creation, sewed back where needed and installed everything in order for his project to work properly. As the final touch, he injected the chip he had designed specifically for this model, already anxious to see how it worked./p  
p align="justify"After hours and hours of working, and just when the sun was starting to peer through his window, James Moriarty fell asleep on the table, besides what would be without a doubt the biggest success of his career so far./p  
p align="center"*******************/p  
p align="justify"The next day passed by uneventfully. Jim counted the hours until Sybil's departure to finally go back to his workshop to find out whether his calculations had been correct or if he had to start all over again. The light over the working table flickered on, illuminating Jim's creation./p  
p align="justify"emIt/emem'/emems time/em/p  
p align="justify"He slowly approached his prototype as if he was afraid he'd scare it away. Of course it was impossible; after all, that was exactly what it was built for in the first place. Jim produced a key from his vest pocket and inserted it in the main rotor, cogs and springs creaking as he turned it clockwise./p  
p align="justify""Wake. Up" he whispered. One last turn to the key and a pair of blue eyes snapped open, staring back at Jim. A pair of beautiful and emempty/em blue eyes./p  
p align="justify""Hi", breathed out Jim. The man in front of him didn't move a muscle in response. The only thing that broke the silence was the creaking of the clockwork mechanism installed inside the man's chest./p  
p align="justify""You don't remember it, but your name is Sebastian Moran", a flash of understanding crossed the blue pools that layed on Jim, "and I am responsible for bringing you back to life", added him with one of his trademark smiles./p  
p align="justify""I am Professor James Moriarty and this is where I work. Everything you see here is mine and soon, if you prove yourself useful enough, it might be yours too". Sebastian's eyes quickly scanned the place./p  
p align="justify""Now, there is something I really need you to pay attention to", started the Professor, showing the key that now hung from his neck. "This, Sebastian, is the key that activates your rotor system, the one that gives you life. And just as easily as I started it, I can decide to deactivate it for as long as I want to. That means that from now on, I own every single breath of yours; every move you make will be after my command or due to my desire; everything you do will be intended to please me or to lighten any burden of mine. You shall not obey anyone but me, for I gave you life, understood?"/p  
p align="justify"The bare-chested man took a few seconds to process the information and gave a slight nod./p  
p align="justify""Good. Now, tell me, how do you feel?"/p  
p align="justify"Sebastian remained silent for another while. He tested his hands and arms, moving them in various directions. He also tried with his legs and his feet, even testing his toes./p  
p align="justify""I feel…" Sebastian looked around, his glazy eyes going back to scanning the room. "Cold"./p  
p align="justify""Excellent"/p  
p align="justify"A manic smile spread across Jim's face as his project got down from the table he was sitting on and started testing his legs on solid ground. "I'll get you some clothes; you're slightly broader on the shoulders than I thought. And don't worry about the stiffness of the legs. It'll go away soon enough"./p  
p align="justify"Jim was about to exit the room to get Sebastian's provisional clothing, when the automaton's deep voice stopped him on his tracks. "What should I call you then?"/p  
p align="justify"James smiled. "You shall call me 'Professor'"./p  
hr /  
p align="justify"emA big thank you to those who have read and are following, I really hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. As for me, feedback is my life so I'd appreciate it in any of its forms, specially reviews. Thanks again and see you soon!/em/p 


	3. Chapter 3

Another night of little sleep had gone by for Jim. Between testing his new project and evaluating all possible scenarios in which he would be able to use it, hours had slipped by and it was already late when he had gone to bed. He woke up to the sound of a clockwork motor, the cogs and pulleys of it jolting him awake to find Sebastian by his bed holding a tray full of food in his hands.

"Good morning Professor. We stood up so late yesterday I figured you would wake up hungry"

Jim narrowed his eyes to the food being offered to him just before smiling and propping himself on his elbows, ready to accept some of it. "I knew that cooking program would come in handy". He was taking half of a French toast and putting it in his mouth unceremoniously when he decided to test the boundaries of his project. "I'm tired Sebastian, feed me".

The automaton placed the tray on the bedside table and started plucking out grapes and then feeding them to Jim, who couldn't do more than receiving them as he tried to control his laughter. He knew it was going to work, but he never thought it'd be so perfect. He had to believe in himself even more.

Slow footsteps sounded outside his door. "Morning, Professor Moriarty! Time to get up!" Sybil entered the room with a cup of tea and some biscuits but stopped on her tracks when she saw Sebastian by Jim's side.

"It's ok Sybil, someone else has already taken care of it", he responded from the bed, opening his mouth to accept another grape in the most obscene way he was capable of.

The girl blushed furiously. "I'm sorry Professor, I didn't know…"

Jim bursted out in laughter. "It's fine, it's just my new project. Though I gotta say, Sybil, that your job might just be compromised", another grape. "Now be a dear and phone Sherlock, will you? Tell him to come on Friday. He's going to die when he meets the perfection I've created", finished Jim, caressing Sebastian's chin.

Sybil exited the room as quickly as she could. She knew the Professor could be eccentric, very unpredictable, even moody, but she could never quite believe all the stories going around that he was mad. As much as he got angry at her sometimes or didn't speak for days, she had never been entirely afraid of him…until now. Sybil walked down the stairs in silence, trying to concentrate in the task at hand to prevent her mind from wandering through scary scenarios.

There was one thing having a prototype at home and making it work in a controlled environment, but having it prove its worth in the outside world was a completely different matter. James knew this well so he planned an excursion to town in order to test his latest creation. As the automaton helped him dress up, his faith in the success of this project kept growing.

Outside, the day was unusually clear. The dark clouds that customarily covered New London were nowhere to be seen and even the people were a bit more cheerful than usual. Jim walked through the crowd, being followed closely by Sebastian, both entering shops and stopping to sightsee until Jim felt comfortable enough with Sebastian's functioning. He was decided to take him on the next business trip when a man ran into him, making Jim fall.

"Oi! Careful where you step, pygmy!" the angry man shouted at Jim, right before a strong hand clasped around his throat in an iron grip. The man turned red under the force of his attacker.

"You do not speak like that to the Professor"

"It's alright, Seb, I'm ok", said Jim, fascinated with the reaction. Sebastian looked back at him, waiting for his order and after Jim's nod, he let the man go, who wheezed and pulled at his shirt collar before running away from them.

"Did I do well, Professor?" asked Sebastian in a polite manner but with no trace of insecurity in his voice like a person would have when in doubt.

"You did marvelously well, Sebastian. Come on; let's pick up our zeppelin tickets. There's a cargo arrival I need to supervise".

The docks had never been a place where Jim liked to be. They reminded him of his former home and that made them all the more disgusting, so when the boat he was waiting for arrived just in time he secretly felt relieved. Five men in big coats disembarked along with some elements of the crew. The eldest one raised a brow at James and his partner.

"Doctor _Faust_, I presume?" asked the man.

"You presume well. Is everything okay with the cargo?"

"Absolutely; surely Mister Moriarty has already told you how reliable we are" responded the man, slightly annoyed for the evident lack of trust.

"Of course he has. But naturally you understand my concern since it's the first time we work together. Besides, the material I asked you to transport is very delicate; any unwanted particle in it and things can hardly go as planned", added Jim perfectly in character. Sebastian stood by his side, the slight noise of his clockwork heart muffled by that of the sea.

The man in front of them snorted. "Look, if you don't believe me, check the cargo yourself"

"That's exactly what I intend to do once you unpack it in that warehouse. Let's not call for more attention than the one your looks already do", finished Jim with a condescending grin before heading to the aforementioned area.

Once the biggest lackey placed a box in front of Jim, he took his knife out and stabbed the top of it dramatically. Some men winced. He took off the wooden lid and some of the protective materials and found his beloved nitro-glycerine along with the tubes of adrenaline and plasma he had ordered; a cargo full of hundreds of them would definitely make things easier for him. He kept on shuffling through the contents of the box until he got to a bag tightly packed and containing a brownish-looking powder. Jim went rigid.

"What is this?"

"Just some vintage stuff, you know, people have something for classics" replied the man who seemed to be the leader, making the rest of his lackeys laugh. Jim remained serious.

"I believe Mister Moriarty was very clear about his policy on drugs", said Jim in a voice that spoke 'danger'. The subordinates immediately stopped laughing, but their boss wouldn't back down so easily.

"Oh come on, you don't seriously believe you are the only one we transport for, do you? There are lots of people who ask for our services and we're not responsible for what they want to transport, we just do the moving-"

"Mister Moriarty asks for special treatment for his cargos, meaning no mixing his' with other people's affairs"

"Listen son, as much as we would want that to work, I can't make a trip all the way from Old Sicily to New London carrying just 'Mister Moriarty's' stuff. It's just not profitable"

"And that is just why Mister Moriarty pays so well" Jim's eyes were already announcing the storm about to fall over those men, and most of them were backing off, except for their leader.

"Well such is life, I've got plenty of business to attempt and I can't just stick to what a puritan that we haven't even met wants".

Silence fell after that. Suddenly, Jim's threatening expression switched to a very cheerful one, yet tense.

"You're right. Mister Moriarty is a very busy man, but he's not impolite. In fact, he was expecting to meet with you today. Sebastian", Jim called, signaling to his partner. "Can you take these gentlemen to Mister Moriarty? He'll certainly be delighted to meet them".

"Absolutely. This way, please", responded Sebastian walking to the back of the warehouse being followed by the smug Old-Sicilian and his pack of brutes. Not nearly five minutes had passed when the screams echoed throughout the place and Jim danced to them.

Water dripped from Sebastian's lean muscles as Jim cleaned him with the help of a sponge. The copper tub was barely big enough to contain the tall man.

"We had a very productive day Sebastian, the first of many more to come, I expect", said Jim, rubbing at the blood-stained cheek of the blond.

"I know what my duty is, Professor. I can assure you I'll take care of any eventuality".

"I know you will. I made you, after all" smiled Jim.

Sebastian perked up at that. "You can trust my skills, Professor. I won't let you down".

"Oh, that's an understatement. You may not remember it since I made sure to bury all of your past life's useless memories, prioritising muscle memory instead, but you were a wonderful sniper. You even earned yourself a medal, and for what I've heard, your carbine was not only handmade but also customised to fulfil your demands".

"Was it? And what happened to it?" Sebastian asked, his brow furrowed in the closest thing to confusion he could muster.

"Irrelevant", replied Jim, rinsing the sponge and placing it on the floor beside the tub. "Finish cleaning yourself up and meet me for dinner. And don't take long, I'm hungry".

James left the room pleased with himself. This experiment had turned out better than he had expected. So much better.

* * *

_Apologies for the lack of posting but this will now be updated regularly every weekend. As usual, reviews would be highly, highly appreciated along with any constructive criticism._

_Author notes_

_*"I believe Mister Moriarty is very clear about his policies on drugs". I have this massive headcanon in which Jim never helps with anything that has to do with drugs, mainly because his mother died because of them but also because he despises anything that can make people lose control. He understands the importance of control and of staying sharp if you intend to rule the whole criminal world. That is why he rarely drinks and why he hates painkillers that make his mind blurry and prevent him from thinking straight, along with drugs. Besides, his head is already hell without anything extra to help!_

_Discussions totally welcomed!_


End file.
